wtf, life.

I know it has to be some kind of faux-pas to blog twice in one day, but I lead a very exciting and important life.
So, lucky for me I did not put "Don't get in any car accidents" on my summer goal list because today that's exactly what I did. You could say, however, that in this case I did not get in a car accident but a car accident got me.

Either way. I was driving through the zoo parking lot, pretty excited that I was getting off work a few minutes early. Just as I start singing along to Taylor Swift ("Fifteen," if you're wondering), some guy backs out of his spot and into the side of my vehicle.

"A collision occurs when two bodies attempt to occupy the same space at the same time." I have always found this statement to be somewhat beautiful and strangely romantic. Except when actually applied to cars, as it turns out.

So anyway, the guy gets out of his car and starts apologizing profusely. I'm super pissed, but don't want to be a jerk so I just keep saying things like "DUDE," and "SERIOUSLY," so I don't say things like "What the fuck were you looking at that was not your rearview mirror?!" Because I'm trying to curse less these days, what with camp being around the corner and all. I just want to get out of the rain, so I ask him for his insurance. Three times. He keeps apologizing and asking if I'm alright. Finally, he gets his girlfriend, who gives me her name and phone number but NOT her insurance number, and I angrily drive off.

When I get home, there is a crack in the paint and a dent squarely between the two doors on the driver's side of my car. I am more angry now. I'm particularly angry because I'm sure the last thing these two young people with a three-year-old child want to do is pay to fix my car doors, but there's a freaking dent and isn't that what insurance is for anyway? As much as I'd like to say forget about it, I don't.

I go inside and realize that I cannot possibly tell my parents until I have called the insurance agency. Not being able to tell someone and receive the sympathy I think I desire makes me angrier still.

Finally I call Progressive and get a wonderfully kind woman with the thickest, cutest North Dakota/Minnesota accent possible who is sympathetic and says things like "Okeeaay" and "You betcha." And I feel a little better, because she's nice and says her words in a way that reminds me of Fargo. While I'm on the phone with her, Kelsey calls and leaves a completely darling message. After I hang up with the nice Fargo lady, I lie on my bed and call Kelsey and she tells me how she was thinking of me in her yoga class and when she went to call me she saw my angry-Kathayoon G-chat status and knew she had to ring me right away. We lamented the two car accidents we'd been in together (one, at 4:30 AM, in college, us versus souped-up pickup truck with the vanity plate "QT ALEX," my fault; and one, in Virginia, in a parking garage, us versus concrete pole, her fault), and the possibilities of sauteeing arugula, which it totally only popular because Obama likes it.

In conclusion, I am still pretty angry but significantly less angry than I was before. I can't help but think, however, that this is some kind of instant karmic due for trying to get away with parking in the visitor lot when today was the first day that we were required to park in the employee lot.

Summer Day 2, guys. Day 2.